To complete the amazing scene there had drifted out of the void great flocks of sea-birds, albatrosses, mallemauks, Cape hens, Cape pigeons, fulmars and others, which kept up an incessant screaming, fluttering, rising and falling, all ravenous and impatient for the cutting in to begin. It was indeed a wonderful revelation of the abundance of life in mid-ocean, such as is only vouchsafed to these deep-sea wanderers, the whalemen.
Two hours’ rest was allowed, and then Captain Taber, sauntering towards his mate, said—
“Mr. Winsloe, we’ve got a big thing in hand, but the best of weather for it. We’ll take each whale alongside and get the heads off first, lettin’ them all tow astern as we cut them off. Then we’ll put all our vim into gettin’ the carcasses skinned, and if the boys only work as they ought, I think we might get the back of the work broken by eight bells to-night.”
Winsloe only grunted, for he was a man of few words, and, slouching forrard, roared, “Turn to!”
Now it would be quite easy for me to take an entire chapter in the attempt to explain the nature and progress of the gigantic task that was accomplished by those forty men, toiling almost incessantly from noon until daylight the next morning; but as the great business has nothing adventurous or thrilling about it, I fear I could not make it interesting. Only I feel that I would like you to realize the scene.The immense masses of blubber being hove inboard by the full power of the crew at the windlass, the great tackles groaning and the ship canting over under the load, the unwearying thrust and recover of the long-handled spades as the toiling officers and harponeers laboured to disjoint the huge heads or scarph the blubber so that it would strip easily from the carcasses, the fitful weird glare of the cressets of blazing “scrap” (pieces of blubber from which the oil has been boiled disposed about the ship to give light to the toilers), and just outside that tiny circle of human labour the solemn vastness of the darkling ocean, the loneliness of that untraversed sea.
But I should do scant justice to the picture if I failed to note how, within that apparently charmed circle which had the ship for its centre, the deep was alive, luminous and vivid. The ceaseless come and go of the ravenous sea-scavengers, striving with all their wonderful energy to get a share of the great feast that was spread, was in itself a sight to linger in the memory as long as life should last, had the workers but time to look at it. And to complete the uncanny interest of the whole strange scene, there was the uneasy passings and melancholy voices of the sea-birds, flitting whitely through the gloom, impatiently waiting for the day.
Daylight saw the huge task completed, and the ship’s deck from one end to the other blocked with the mighty masses of case and junk and blanket pieces. The blubber-room, as the square of the main-hatch down to the ’tween decks and for about ten feet on either side of it is called, was choked full of blubber, not another slice could be got down, and in consequence all the rest had to be piled on deck. Old whalemen will doubt the possibility of such afeat as the cutting in of five sperm whales in twenty hours until I explain that none of the whales were too large to have the case lifted inboard, and that, of course, makes all the difference; for I have been twenty-four hours engaged in cutting inonewhale, and with a smart man in charge too. But then that whale was so huge that many time-wasting things had to be done that were unnecessary in the case I am relating.
As the last case was hove on board and secured, the skipper gave a long sigh of relief and cried—
“Spell ho! all hands. Mr. Winsloe, give the boys three hours’ rest, good, and then we’ll start blubber watches (six hours on and six hours off); and say, you cook-man, just you see to it that the men get the best breakfast that can be scared up in the ship.” And as he turned away towards the stern the oil dripped from his hair, his clothing, and squished out of his sea-boots, for the captains of those ships, if they drove their crews, drove themselves hardest of all, and no man could say that his skipper could only drive, not lead.
Now, impossible as it may seem to us, there was no attempt made to change clothing. Just a perfunctory wipe of hands and face with oakum wads preliminary to a wolfish devouring of food, for all were outrageously hungry. That everything eaten and even the tobacco smoked afterwards was reeking with oil nobody minded, for in truth the product of the sperm whale when absolutely fresh as this was is as bland and pleasant as the purest olive oil: it is only when it gets stale and rancid that its unpleasant taste and odour become manifest.
The short respite worked wonders for the toilers, although those of them who had to resume work at10 a.m., four bells, thought longingly of the greasy bunks in which the fortunate members of the watch below were recuperating from their heavy labours. But a spirit of emulation was aboard, and there was no cursing or driving; every man therefore did his best to reduce the chaos on deck to something like order. The huge cases were split open one after the other, the spermaceti baled out and passed into tanks below, and as each was scraped dry it was hauled to the waist and pushed through the open gangway into the sea, where, in spite of the vast banquet given them in the carcasses of the whales during the night, there were thousands of gaping candidates for more.
As the fierce sun came out and beat down upon the piles of blubber the oil exuded and filled the decks, for all the scuppers and wash-ports were closed tightly, and there was no time to bale or place to bale the oil into until the fires in the try-works should be started. But by dint of the hardest, most unremitting toil, at midday enough of a clearance had been made to start the fires and the work of boiling down began. And here I must leave the business for a while because, although it has not its parallel in any other work ashore, it is dirty, greasy, smelly; full of sordid discomforts, and difficult indeed to see the romance of except to the privileged few who have strong imaginations.
Throughout the following week all hands toiled nobly to stow away their great catch, but the captain and officers had a pretty bad time, for every day small pods of sperm whales would come nosing around, quite close to the ship, as if they knew (and perhaps they did) that her crew was unable to take advantage of this wonderful opportunity through having their hands so abundantly filled. Then when at last the whole catch had been reduced into thecomparatively small compass of nearly 600 barrels, or 60 tons of oil, and the lash rails all round the ship were fully occupied by huge casks full of oil getting cool, the harponeers of each boat made haste to refit their boats, sharpen their weapons, and make all ready for the next opportunity, thinking at the same time how very unlikely it was that those visiting whales would happen along again now that they might look for a cordial reception.
I have not made any special mention of my hero in connexion with this great piece of work, because he did only what every one else did, his best, and at a time like that the slightest softness or slacking-off of a man in a position of authority is noted at once, not merely by his compeers but by his subordinates. Through this really severe ordeal C. B. passed triumphantly in spite of the novelty of much of the work to him, and by the time it was over there really seemed to be a tacit agreement on the part of the men who hated him to let him alone, since he had proved in the most satisfactory way that he was entirely capable, willing and cheerful, and that the men forward would jump more eagerly at his slightest pleasantest word than they would at a bitter curse weighing a threat from one of the truculent Portuguese. In fact, although no one told him so in so many words, all the circumstances attending this great catch went to place C. B. in the position in the esteem of his fellows that he deserved to occupy, and lasting peace seemed assured.
There was ample time after this severe ordeal to restore theEliza Adamsto her pristine cleanliness, for as the captain caustically remarked, the whales seemed to have all concentrated in that spot and subsequently to have all left for parts unknown. And really it did seem like it, for no solitary spout was seen for nearly three weeks. Then came a pleasant diversion; how pleasant only those can know who for many months have been denied all the intercourse with their kind outside of the little population of the ship. Pepe being at the masthead from 4 to 6 p.m. yelled “Sail ho.” This was the first cry of that kind that the crew had heard since leaving Norfolk Island, and be sure they were proportionately excited.
Many eager speculations were made during the next two hours, for the wind was but light and she was fully ten miles away, as to whether the stranger was a “spouter” or a merchantman. And a great relief was felt when just at sunset she was made out to be one of their own fraternity, and joyful greeting signals were exchanged. It was quite dark before the two ships came near enough to each other to “gam” as we call it, but what of that? What of the fact that a stiff breeze had got up, and that boats passing between the ships in the dark must necessarily have a rough time. In the Navy and amongthe whalers such things are most lightly esteemed. I have seen a group of Naval officers brave a most tempestuous passage of half an hour’s duration, the picquet boat taking green water over as she plunged through the seas, merely to have an hour’s lawn tennis or golf and come off again, and I have known repeatedly whalemen brave the terrors of the great Southern ocean rollers in half a gale of wind at night merely in order to have a chat with some fresh fellows, exchange a few ideas that to strangers might have the merit of novelty.
So at eight bells, 8 p.m., as her lights were seen stationary abeam about a mile away, a boat was lowered from theEliza Adamsinto which the captain and C. B. with the boat’s crew descended, and pulled away into the darkness until the dim black hull of the vessel they are bound to suddenly loomed huge and threatening from the darkness.
“Ship ahoy!” roared the skipper. “Here’s Captain Taber of theEliza Adamscome a gamming.”
“Welcome, Captain Taber, I knew it was you as soon as I heard ye hail. This is theMatilda Sayerof Dartmouth, Captain Rotch.”
“Good lad,” yelled Captain Taber delightedly. “Pull two, stern three, ah! unrow there;”—and as the boat ranged alongside he gripped the man ropes and ascended the side ladder of rope like a goat climbing a precipice.
While the two old friends greeted each other there was a whirring of sheaves and down came the mate’s boat into the water. Dark forms leapt into her and she pushed off, immemorial custom having decided that in gamming when the captain visits a ship the mate of that ship goes a visiting his fellow on board the other vessel. As they pushed off into the darkness a voice was heard above, “Haul up andhook on, chums,” and they did so, their boat being cheerily hoisted into the position the other had left. For this was also a pleasant sea-custom among whalers, being eminently practicable because of the almost standard size of all whale boats.
Arriving on deck the four hands were immediately haled forrard, and C. B. was welcomed in the half deck by the harponeers, where such hospitality as they possessed was offered him and all hands crowded around him eager to talk to him, and listen to what he had to say. First of all with native courtesy they inquired what sort of a season theEliza Adamswas having and other matters of that kind, but he could not help noticing that they all looked curiously at him, as if they could not quite make him out. At last the old carpenter, a fine venerable Yankee, said—
“Whar d’ye hail from, mister?”
“I come from Norfolk Island,” replied C. B. pleasantly.
“Well, do tell,” ejaculated the cooper, “I didn’t know they was ever any natives on Norfolk ’cept convicks from England, and I heerd that they was done away with long ago. An’ yew don’ look like a Kanaka neither.”
“Neither am I,” explained C. B. with gentle dignity. “Surely you must have heard of the Pitcairn Islanders finding Pitcairn too small for them, and a number of them being sent by the British Government to Norfolk Island, which was given them to live in.”
A chorus of remembrance arose in a babel of voices until the old carpenter, getting up, came close to C. B. and peered in his face intently, at last remarking quietly, “Did your father ever go to sea in a spouter, young feller?”
“Oh yes,” answered C. B.; “he was in theRainbowand theCanton, both New England whaleships, for a considerable time.”
“And what might his name be, if he’s still alive, as I hope?”
“Thank you, he’s still alive, or was three months ago, when I left home, God bless him, and his name is Philip Adams!”
The effect upon the carpenter was electrical. He smote his thigh with great violence and shouted—“Boys, thishyer fine specimen of a boy is the son of the finest specimen of a man that ever trod God Almighty’s earth. Nine months I was shipmates with him in the oleCanton, and if ever a man was tried by a lot of ornery scalawags, he was. He could a broke any one of ’em in pieces with his fingers; he was as much above ’em at any kind o’ work as he was in strength an’ good looks, yet that mis’ble gang used to chip him, poke fun at him, play tricks on him, until I used to feel as if I could a killed ’em myself, and I warn’t much better than they was. But never once did anybody hear an angry word or a bad word of any kind outer his mouth, never once did he miss a chance of doin’ even the worst of his tormentors a good turn, and never once did anybody have real cause of complaint about his work or anything that he did. And when he left the ship to go home because his agreed time was up, I never see such a carryin’ on, you’d a thought everybody on board had lost father and mother and all their other relations. Young man”—solemnly—“if you’re only one quarter as good a man as your father was, the ship is entirely blessed by having ye aboard, and I’m honoured at bein’ able to shake ye by the hand.”
There was a momentary pause as “Chips” sankdown on his chest again, and C. B.’s eyes glistened with heavenly pride at the honour paid to that dear father whom he so fondly loved. Then he said—
“My dear dad is all you say of him, and all I am or ever likely to be that’s any good I owe to him and mother. But he is a very quiet man, especially about himself, and so we knew little of what he had gone through. I understand it better now since I have been whaling myself. I thank you with all my heart for what you have said about him, it has done me more good than you can possibly imagine.”
There was rather an awkward pause after this, as if the other members of the half deck hardly knew what to do with such a prodigy as they now believed they had got in their midst. But the carpenter came to the rescue by saying—
“Looky here, youngster, your father had a very tuneful voice of his own, and although he didn’t talk much he would sing by the hour, all about God and heaven and the like, and my! but it made me feel right good. D’ye happen to take after him in that?”
C. B. flushed a little and replied—
“Since I’ve been to sea I’ve never sung a note except humming to myself. But I used to sing at home a good deal, and I’ll be very glad to try if you like. I only sing hymns, though.”
“That’s quite good,” hastily answered the carpenter, “your father didn’t sing anything else either, an’ I don’t suppose any of us will know the difference. We’re all more or less heathen, you know.”
So without further pressing C. B. lifted up his sweet tenor and sang “O God of Bethel,” amid a silence that was positively painful in its intensityof attention. And as soon as he had finished he was disconcerted by a very tempest of applause and vociferous shouts of “Same man sing agen. Bully for you, old hoss,” etc., etc. And nothing loth C. B. sang again and again, his repertoire being tolerably extensive and his memory as good as his bringing up would naturally make it, until tired out he had to cry off. Then, and not till then, it was found that all hands in the ship, forgetting the gam, had crowded as near to the half deck as possible, charmed by the sweet strains.
The whole incident brings forcibly to my memory an experiment of my own once when gamming a ship called theCornelius Howlandoff the Three Kings, New Zealand. I was one of the visiting boat’s crew, and after the usual topics of conversation flagged a song was called for. I explained that I had some pretensions to a voice, but could only sing hymns, for in the sect among whom I was converted it was esteemed wrong to sing anything secular, and mortal sin to go to any place of amusement whatever. It was immediately explained to me that so long as I sang, the words did not matter in the least, especially as scarcely anybody would understand me. So I piped up instantly with a favourite of mine from Sankey’s book, “Through the Valley of the Shadow I must go.” It was received with shouts of joy, one man who was especially delighted saying, “Well, —— my eyes, that’s what I call a —— good song, d’ye know. I could sit and listen to that kind o’ singin’ all night.”
I humbly apologize for the blanks, but the reader will, I hope, feel as I did, that the forcible expletives they represent meant nothing to the speaker, who was only using his ordinary language. I onlyknow that I went on singing to the exclusion of everybody else, and was quite hoarse the next day from the unaccustomed vocal exercise, for we didn’t sing very much in my ship. After all, it was not much to be wondered at, for the polyglot crowd met with in the forecastle and half decks of a whaler has usually one gift in common—an intensely musical ear, although the execution of pleasing music is denied them in nearly every instance. And for instrumental music they usually have that truly infernal instrument, the accordion, from which the most ingenious musician that ever lived can draw nothing but noise. So that a little real music is received with great joy.
At midnight the cry was heard, “Eliza Adams’boat’s crew away,” and C. B. sprang to his post, but not before his new-found friend “Chips” had handed over to him his choicest treasure, a small parcel of well-thumbed books, ragged copies of Dickens and Charles Reade, with one or two others by less known authors, but all to C. B. a storehouse of wonders, a treasure unlocked. Then with a warm handshake they parted, C. B. feeling happier than he had done since leaving home. Never before had he realized how much he had craved for sympathy and the opportunity to express himself in terms of love and admiration for his Father in heaven. And when they presently reached the ship Captain Taber said to him—
“You seem to have had a pretty good time, Christmas. I heard you singing away and remembered how your folks used to sing. It must have been quite a treat to you to let loose again.”
C. B. said nothing, for he did not feel that any answer was required of him, but he longed with greater desire than ever to be able to talk aboutthe matter that lay nearest his heart. No one who has not been in a similar position can begin to realize what it means to be dumb upon the one topic that interests you. To feel that if you mention it to anybody you will not only not be understood, but your words will be construed as an insult. But he gave a great sigh and took the matter quietly to the Lord as was his wont, feeling much comforted thereby, strengthened to wait and endure as long as he should be called upon to do so. And all unknown to him relief was at hand.
Two days after meeting with theMatilda Sayerthe crow’s-nest reported whale in the usual manner. But this time it was a lone whale of very large size steadily making a passage across the ground at a leisurely pace. Now a lone whale is always potentially very dangerous, because his loneliness is due to the fact that he has been cast out of the society of his kind. A big bull whale only maintains his position as leader of the school as long as he is able to beat all aspirants to the dignity. And as the young bulls growing up are continually striving to attain that position, it will easily be seen that to keep it the holder must be of exceptional strength and vigour, while the day will surely come when in the natural order of events he will have to abdicate, which does not mean that he may take an inferior position in the school, but that he must leave it altogether and from henceforth until the end, which may be many years distant, he must roam solitary.
But this condition of existence for the whale naturally means that he becomes morose, savage and wary. And if he should in addition have been the object of attack by whalemen and have got away from them, he becomes doubly dangerous becauseof the never-to-be-forgotten lessons he has learned as to how to act, and also because it usually happens that he carries with him, imbedded in his flesh, some rankling fragments of bombs and certainly a galling harpoon.
Now in consequence of these well-known facts concerning the lone whale, it is usual to approach him with considerable caution. But there are many whalemen to whom caution in dealing with their gigantic quarry is a word of no meaning, they are reckless in the extreme, and no amount of disaster ever seems sufficient to teach them. Of such was Mr. Merritt: that strange composed man took fire within when approaching a whale. He “saw red” as the saying is, and although handling his boat and using his weapons with consummate skill, he had not one iota of prudence in his whole make up.
Now on this momentous occasion, because it was a lone whale, Captain Taber ordered the chief and fourth officers away, keeping the other boats in readiness to lower of course should there be any necessity, but not anticipating that more would be needed. It was a fine day, but the wind was high and the sea was correspondingly heavy. According to etiquette Mr. Winsloe was first on the whale, into which Pepe with his usual skill planted both irons right up to the hitches. Mr. Merritt lay off a little with his boat, noting with some surprise that no frantic wallowings and struggling followed the dart. Assuming, as was most natural, that Pepe had failed to strike the whale, he pulled up rapidly, having dowsed his own sail, to where Mr. Winsloe’s men were busy getting their mast down.
When within a couple of boat’s lengths of them all were horrified to see the huge black head of thewhale suddenly rise ghost-wise on the port bow of the boat, while the gleaming pointed lower jaw emerged from the water on the starboard side. The view was only momentary, for as they gazed horror-stricken they saw the great jaws close, crashing through the flimsy sides of the boat as if she were of so much paper, and with a yell that rang high above the roar of wind and sea the crew sprang clear of the wreck for their lives. But C. B.’s eagle eye noticed on the instant that the harponeer had disappeared, and in a second he had leapt from the boat into the vortex caused by the wallowing of the whale, dived and caught at a black mass far beneath the surface, the body of Pepe entangled by the whale line. Fortunately at that moment the whale, disdaining to seek safety in flight, returned to the surface, and consequently there was little difficulty for such a powerful expert as C. B. to bring his prize to the surface, free him from the line, and assist him back to the boat. I say assist, for Pepe, though grievously injured, had never lost consciousness, and in consequence was able to make some feeble attempts to help himself.
By the time he had been hauled inboard the rest of the crew had been rescued and the bight of the line, which C. B. had dropped as soon as he had cleared it from Pepe’s limbs, was picked up and taken through the notch in the bows, displacing their own line. Now Mr. Merritt was in his element, danger and difficulty of any kind seemed to give the needed stimulus to his otherwise sluggish nature. Charging the rescued crew to double bank the oars, and placing the injured man in the bottom of the boat, he changed ends with C. B. and awaited the onslaught of the whale.
That monster played the usual waiting game,just appearing for an instant to spout, and then only exposing the point of the snout where the spiracle or blow-hole is situated. He was waiting his opportunity to perform the same operation on the second boat as he had done on the first. But Merritt seemed to have placed himself in absolute correspondence with the whale’s mind, for each time that either the great flukes or the ponderous jaws appeared above water the boat by a quiet order had been driven to a safe distance, and the threatened blow or bite did not take effect. In fact the queer yellow man was playing the waiting game also, knowing that the whale’s exertions were rapidly tiring him out.
For, strange to say, vast as is the strength possessed by these monsters, they tire very soon when they have to exert themselves much. And it is only when they are allowed to take things easily, as sometimes happens through cowardice or unskilfulness on the part of the whalemen, that they are able to weary out their aggressors and finally emerge the victors in the long fight. At last Merritt saw with a chuckle of delight that the whale was going to rush him head and head as we call it. He had his bomb gun ready to hand, and laying down his hand lance he put it to his shoulder, crying—
“Now, stern all hard and keep her just as she heads, Christmas.”
With so much power at the oars the boat rushed swiftly astern as the whale came rushing on, the great head rearing high out of water and exposing the gleaming white cavern of the throat.
Coolly, as if ashore at some practising ground, Merritt took aim and pulled the trigger. There was a splash, a report, and an appalling commotion in the sea ahead of the boat, in the midst of whichanother report was heard, the explosion of the bomb within the whale’s body. “Way ’nough,” shouted Merritt, and the boat stopped a cable’s length away from the place where the mighty mammal was tearing up the deep in his Titanic death throes. For a few moments the scene was appalling, almost akin to a submarine volcanic eruption, then the uproar suddenly ceased and the magnificent beast lay dead, listlessly tossing upon the waves which the exuding oil from his wounds turned into smooth hummocks of water quietly rising and falling around.
The tumult had hardly subsided when the second boat ranged alongside with orders to Mr. Merritt to return at once with his overmanned boat. And he obeyed cheerfully, because nothing is more annoying than to try and work in a boat where the hands, by reason of their being too many, get in one another’s way, this being especially so when, as was now the case, one man grievously hurt was lying in the bottom of the boat. They soon reached the ship and climbed on board, Mr. Winsloe hastening to the skipper and reporting the catastrophe, while all hands rallied on to the falls and ran the boat up with Pepe’s unconscious body in it. He was tenderly lifted out and carried aft on to a mattress, where his clothes were removed, disclosing the severe nature of his injuries. The whale had evidently nipped him sideways, for the great teeth of the lower jaw had made eleven ghastly bruises, each four or five inches across, and in three places the clothing was driven deep into the blackened flesh. Three of the largest ribs were broken, and the right arm was horribly lacerated by the whale line being twisted round it under a great strain.
But owing to the bluntness of the teeth therehad been no loss of blood, except in so far as it had blackened and spread under the skin, which of course was highly dangerous from the possibility of mortification and the absence of any but the rudest surgery. However, all that could be done for the poor wretch by way of cooling lotions and bandages was done, and he regained consciousness to fall into a refreshing sleep.
Meanwhile the crew had toiled fiercely under the direction of the mate to get their prize alongside, finding as it was hauled near that its dimensions were more imposing than they had imagined. Measured along the rail it was roughly seventy feet in length, which is as far as is accurately known about the limit of size for a cachalot, while as it lay on its side, its jaw parallel to the ship, it looked as imposing in size as a vessel of two or three hundred tons bottom up. The fluke chain was passed without difficulty, and all the available force of harponeers and officers that could get at it attacked it at once with almost desperate energy, for it was getting late in the day, the night promised to be very dark, and none relished the prospect of pursuing that gigantic task without other light save that afforded by the feeble cressets. To Mr. Merritt and C. B. fell the task of severing the monstrous head, a labour which it is most difficult to realize. There is but a slight crease in the place where a neck ought to be, and here the carcass is nearly twenty feet through—a mass of muscle and sinew with scarcely any soft parts, and right in the centre of it the huge ball and socket joint of the vertebrae which is composed of bones nearly two feet thick. And if those spades plunging down into the depths of that mass darkly (for it is impossible to keep the scarph open) should miss the joint, as it is exceedinglylikely they may, the additional work is tremendous. I have seen this task occupy the labours of the whole of the officers and harponeers of a ship, relieving one another at frequent intervals, for a whole day.
But this huge toil is but little greater than that which is being prosecuted at the same time by the others, all of whom are balanced upon the precarious plank of the cutting in stage, suspended far out over the side and springing to every roll of the ship. There is the junk to be divided from the head, a mass weighing eight to ten tons cut diagonally from the lower point of the upper jaw, and there is also the huge oblong mass of the case, or really half the remainder of the head, to be cut through, where a careless lunge of the spade may cause the leakage of all the valuable spermaceti which it holds in a liquid state. In this immense task strength avails little unless allied to skill, and skill is of small use without strength and endurance to keep driving the spade in the right place.
In a small whale, as I have hinted before, these operations are much simplified, because the head can be cut off and hoisted on deck, where the work of severing junk and case is quite easy. But as now the whale was of the largest size and most of the work had to be done upon the huge masses rolling and tumbling in the unquiet sea beneath, all the strength, patience, and endurance possessed by the workers were needed to the very limit. At last the head came off, and a great groan of relief went up from Merritt and C. B., whose arms felt as if they would drop off through sheer weariness. But there was no prospect of rest, the only relief they could hope for was a change in their movements bringing a different set of muscles into play. Theblubber hook had long been in position affixed to the eyepiece, and no sooner did the huge mass of the head surge astern than the high clear voice of the captain rose—
“Heave away there cheerily now, I want to see how quick ye can skin this whale.”
He was answered by an incessant clattering of the pawls as the windlass brakes flew up and down, and the first blanket piece of blubber, a foot thick and nine feet wide, rose majestically into the air.
As soon as the blocks of the tackle came together the windlass stopped, while the captain, armed with a formidable boarding-knife like a cutlass blade stuck in a long wooden handle, cut a big circular hole in the centre of the blanket piece, thrust the strap of the waiting tackle through it and secured it by a large wooden toggle, shouting as he slipped it into its place, “Heave on yer whale, my hearties, heave on yer whale: surge on yer piece!”
“Oh what a jargon,” I think I hear some reader say wearily. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. It only means that the men at the windlass heave on the second tackle and let the fall of the first slip round the windlass barrel. Then as soon as the second tackle has taken the strain “Vast heaving” is called, while the captain with his boarding-knife cuts through the blanket piece high above the hole he made for the securing of the second tackle and the mass, now disengaged, is lowered into the blubber room.
It sounds like a lengthy process but really is not, for in the present instance the captain’s appeal was answered so well that in twenty-five minutes the whole of that vast carcass was denuded of its blubber and had floated away, the centre of a ravening horde of sharks.
Although it would be quite unfair to imagine from the immense activity prevailing in the ship during the cutting-in that Pepe was neglected, it is certain that according to a very well understood and constantly acted upon rule in South Sea whalers, work connected with whaling takes precedence of everything else. Nothing is allowed to interfere with it as long as it is humanly possible to carry it on. Remembering the quite scanty rewards to be obtained on an average by the most ardent and successful whalemen, the absolute impossibility of any supervision by the owners for three or four years at a time, it is, I think, little short of marvellous to note the extraordinary energy and perseverance manifested by these men, of whatever grade above that of seaman, in the chief business of the voyage.
Physical injury, lack of rest, incredible toil, privation suffered are all made light of in the chase, capture, and disposal of the whale. Charges are often brought against the leaders of gross inhumanity to the men working under them in the absence of full restraint; but as far as that cruelty consists in overwork, or work under desperate conditions, I bear witness that if the sailor or foremost hand is not spared, neither do those who drive him spare themselves. The voluntary work that I have seen some of these men perform would be taken asincredible if I were to relate it, and I therefore shrink from giving instances. Besides, to the majority of those whom I hope will read this book, the whole business would be unintelligible because entirely out of the purview of a serene and quietly ordered life.
This terribly energetic method of working was a most severe lesson to C. B., hard to learn, harder still to understand. For in the gentle life of the islanders, though great efforts were sometimes necessary in an emergency, as we have seen, they had no ideas of hard work as a habit, for the love of working hard, or for the greed of gain. They were as far removed from being ascetics as they were from being hypocrites. They loved their simple pleasures and heartily gave thanks to God for them, and they could not understand why any sane person should misuse his body in order to get more than somebody else had—the last condition being an unthinkable one to them where everything was held in common. But it had not taken C. B. long to discover that in the new world of which he was now a denizen, might and endurance, as well as ability to get and keep, were the objects of praise and almost worship. That men were held in esteem, not for what they were, but for what they had, and that the easiest sneer to their lips was that a priest, a parson, or a religious man of any kind was an individual who had found that the easiest way of getting a living without work was gaining a hold over the minds of your hard-working fellows by pretending that you were in touch with the unseen world.
So he had early come to the conclusion that he must prove his manhood by his eagerness to work, his indifference to fatigue, and his ability to do allthat was required of him, as well as by his passive obedience to all the loving precepts of the Gospel. And this kept him going sometimes when he would fain have sunk down with fatigue, a generous pride and belief in God’s sustaining power as being certainly no less able to uphold the Christian than the mysterious force that kept Merritt, the man of no beliefs and strangest origin, going apparently with ease when everybody else was sinking with fatigue. Nobly he sustained his part, and nobody suspected how near he was several times to giving up and declaring that whatever happened he could work no more without rest.
This present business was really the severest he had gone through, because his successful effort to save Pepe was made under the most trying conditions, every ounce of his great strength as well as his endurance of privation of air had been put forth, and then as soon as the ship was reached work harder than ever had to be engaged in. Consequently as soon as the last case had been strung up alongside by the two main tackles and the business of baling it out had commenced he was most thankful to hear the skipper say—
“Now, I’ll watch these fellows baling the case, an’ all the rest of ye scoot, get a good skin full of grub and a rest. We’ll set blubber watches at eight bells” (eight o’clock p.m.).
As they stepped away from the waist, with all its débris of quaint fragments of blubber and bone, and the swish, swish of oil surging from side to side of the deck, Merritt said to our friend—
“Christmas, me boy, I ain’t too sorry to knock off for an hour or two. I believe I’m getting old; can’t work day in and day out ’thout wantin’ a rest same as I used to.”
C. B. replied simply—
“I thought you could hardly be made of ordinary flesh and blood. You seem to work like a machine and never to think of rest, while I often find myself wondering how much longer I can hold out.”
“Ah, me boy,” responded Merritt, laying his hand most affectionately on C. B.’s arm, “you forget the differences between our ages. You’re only a boy just done growin’, ’bout twenty-two ain’t ye? while I—well I don’t quite know how old I am, but I guess about thirty-five, have got all my gristle hardened into man, and can plug along ’thout showin’ it. But you shape better than any youngster I ever see.”
As Merritt finished speaking, C. B. suddenly bethought him of Pepe, lying aft there in miserable pain, and slipped along to his side. Finding the wounded man awake he dropped one knee beside him, saying—
“How is it, Pepe? Can I do anything for you, get a pipe, a drink, or move you?”
Pepe looked up at the fine eager face, and moistened his lips twice or thrice before he replied with another question: “What made ye save me? If I’d been in your place, I’d let ye die, an’ glad o’ the chance. An’ I’d be best pleased if you’d let me go when I was three parts gone. I don’t want t’ live cos you’ve beat me, you an’ yer Chinaman. Go away; I hate ye, an’ if I could I’d kill ye now. What did ye ever come aboard this ship for? Ye’ve made a hell of her for better men than you are.”
C. B. knew better than to stay and talk to a man in that frame of mind, a man too who, for all he knew, might be raving in delirium; but he thought with some consolation of certain unclean spirits of old who cried to the healing Lord, “Art thou come totorment us before our time?” and turned away to his berth below, where he found a good and ample meal awaiting him. He ate and drank reverently, gratefully, and then, greatly refreshed, lay down in his bunk and went fast asleep almost on the instant, having not a single care of his own. And, as it happened that he was not in the first watch, it was 2 a.m. before he was called, and then he sprang to his feet at the word full of life and energy.
When he rushed on deck he found the machinery of oil-boiling in full blast, the caldrons bubbling fiercely, the square iron funnels of the try-works blazing like the squat chimneys of an iron foundry, and the clatter of the mincing machine incessant. He had little imagination or he would have thought what a picture she made, this tiny hive of human energy with all her toilers, in the midst of that immense stretch of lonely ocean, engaged in converting to human use the treasure of the boundless deep ravished from its mightiest denizen. But he only saw a little group of almost dead-beat men who had been working mechanically for hours, only thought pityingly of the ill-requited toil and what he considered to be the folly of it all.
Then he plunged into the work himself, while the second and fourth mates prowled about the decks, keeping a vigilant eye upon possible shirkers, seeing the great casks rolled away from the cooler as the cooked oil was poured into them and they brimmed over. In fact the ship was now just a floating factory from which, except to an observant onlooker if such there had been, all romance had departed to make way for the greasy heavy toil. No lookout was kept, no hand at the wheel, which was lashed hard a lee; for, in case any other ship should be wandering that way, the trying-out whaler was abeacon in herself, visible for many miles. She certainly could not run another ship down, and any one who run her down could be little less than a criminal lunatic, at least quite unfit to have charge of a ship.
So the heavy round of work went on without intermission until, about 4.30, the darkest hour before the dawn, all hands on deck were startled beyond measure by hearing a high clear voice crying—
“Ship ahoy! What ship is that? Do you need any assistance?” All eyes were turned in the direction of the hail, and there close by them rode a ship of war, her side crowded with men plainly visible in the blue flare she was burning, but looking all corpse-like in that unnatural light.
Loud and clear came the response from aft, for Captain Taber seemed to be always on hand when wanted: “ShipEliza Adamsof New Bedford, whaling, now engaged in trying out.”
“Thank you,” came the somewhat dissatisfied answer across. “I thought you were on fire. Good-night and good luck. Go ahead, please; forty revolutions, course S.80.W.”
It was only one of the police of the seas, a British man-o’-war attached to the South American Squadron; but as she did not leave her name or destination no one on board could guess who she was. Captain Taber said sardonically, “That’s a Johnny Haul Taut, I bet; thinks he owns the show. But I guess he’s ben sold a pup this watch. Wonder what sort of guff he’ll enter up in his log about this.” It was not generous, but characteristic of American captains in discussing British seamen and their seamanship, and we can hardly quarrel or bother with it to any good purpose. But what was entered in the log was just this—
“Saw a glare to the eastward, looking like a ship on fire, altered course at 3.55 a.m. to E.N.E. and ran down at full speed, twelve knots. Discovered the glare to be the whaleshipEliza Adamsof New Bedford trying out a whale. Resumed course immediately, S.80.W., forty revolutions. Weather as before.”
By the next day at noon the deck was clear of all the filth, and the factory-like work was proceeding with machine-like regularity, all hands being now well rested. And as cask after cask was filled at the cooler and rolled away to a secure temporary berth on deck, the captain was heard to say something to this effect: “I thought so. I guessed that whale to be about the biggest in all my experience, an’ now I’m gettin’ to be sure of it. Never saw a bigger whale nor yet richer blubber.” By which he meant that the blubber was so full of oil that when cut the clear fluid gushed almost like water and besides it was full of cysts, small cells of about the size of peas, which were filled with a bland substance of the consistency of cream, probably almost pure spermaceti.
For although the great reservoir of spermaceti is in the head, in this case yielding nearly fifty barrels or five tons of almost pure spermaceti, this curious substance is found in the oil from any part of the body, particularly the great dorsal hump. Why the head should have so huge a quantity of this fluid contained in it is a mystery, the only supposition concerning its use being that its very low specific gravity brings the vast mass much more quickly to the surface than would otherwise be the case, and brings it up too in such a position that the spiracle or blow-hole is the first portion of the whale to break water. This substance has nothing in itof the nature of brain matter—the brains are quite small in proportion to the size of the creature—but it has been held, in view of the high intelligence shown by the whales and seals, all of which are noted for their apparent paucity of brain, that this thought or intelligence matter is distributed over the different nerve centres, or to put it more colloquially, the creature has, like the telephone system in a large town, several local exchanges, as well as one central exchange for the transaction of general business.
And in the same way it has been supposed that the whales, huge as they are, cannot possibly contain sufficient air for the needs of the creatures during the prolonged period—often nearly an hour—during which they remain under water, since they have no other means of aerating the blood whatever. So it has been assumed that in some mysterious way the vital principle of the air, oxygen, is in some way secreted during the period that the whale is on the surface, a supposition which is somewhat supported by the fact that the whale upon coming to the surface must make so many respirations, always the same in number, before he can seek the depths again, which would point to some process going on in addition to ordinary breathing. Also it would certainly be impossible for him to sink if he inflated himself, as it were, by shipping a great reservoir full of air.
But this is probably enough of whale anatomy for one chapter, so I will leave the subject for a while, merely recording that the captain’s most sanguine expectations were fulfilled, the whale yielding one hundred and sixty barrels or sixteen tons of oil and spermaceti, which at the then high market-price of the day, £108 per ton, made the handsome sum of over seventeen hundred poundsfor less than a week’s work. Of course the long spells of inaction and the heavy outlay as well as upkeep must be borne in mind, and I do not suggest that the great game was ever in the nature of a gold mine, only that when a monster like the one we have just tried out was obtained he made a very considerable addition to the profits of the voyage.
All the oil having been run down, and the lavish application of lye and sand to the decks and paintwork having made the ship look her usual smart self, the monotonous old routine began again, but for our hero at least its monotony was a thing of the past. For one thing he began on his bundle of books, only reading a very little at a time at first, but gradually getting absorbed in them and reading on to the great loss of his sleep. But oh, to be able to read like him, to drink with an entirely unsophisticated thirst at the fountain of good literature believing every word as if it were directly inspired! Of course he read his Bible as he had always done, from a genuine love of it and a full appreciation of its living histories, not at all as a religious duty, but as with his wonderful memory he knew it nearly all by heart, it was entirely delightful to him to get hold of something fresh.
At last his chief, Merritt, said to him one night, with just the slightest shade of grievance in his voice, “’Pears to me you’re mighty busy these days, too busy to have a yam even. What ’yer doin’ anyhow with yer nose in a book all the time?”
For a moment the idea of the extremely taciturn Merritt wanting a yam almost made C. B. smile, but he suppressed the impulse and replied apologetically—
“I’m afraid I’ve been a bit selfish of late, but the fact is I’ve just found my way into a new world. Inever knew how much there was in books before, and I forget everything else but the people that seem to be all alive before me, doing and saying things that I never dreamed of before. You see, I’ve missed very much the long talks and pleasant society that I’ve been used to all my life till I came here, for no one here seemed to care about anything that I like, and I can’t listen to their yarns at all: they’re all dreadful to me because of the bad language.”
Merritt looked at him keenly for the space of a minute, and then said as if thinking aloud, “I wonder what Pepe thinks of ye now since you saved his life. Don’t seem overnabove thankful ’s far ’s I can see. Spoke t’ him yet?”
C. B. flushed dark red as he replied, “Yes, I asked him the next day if I could do anything for him, and I found him as bitter as ever. He knows all about the business—how, I don’t know, but he does—and he seems to hate me worse for it. What it means I don’t understand, but I can’t alter it, and so I must let him go his own way.”
“I know,” grunted Merritt; “he’s a bad man, eaten up with jealousy of you. If you’d a ben a no ’count greenie that couldn’t keep your end up, an’ had to knuckle down to him in the half deck same as his other cronies do or did, you wouldn’t had no trouble with him. I got no use for men like him except to make oil, for he’s a pretty fair average whaleman—I’m not denying that.
“But what I like about you is that you’re not only a good whaleman, but you’re a good man. An’ now I want to tell you somethin’. I ben achin’ to get it off my chest for a long time past, ever since I took such a shine t’ ye at the first lowerin’. I told yer I had a chum once, didn’t I? Yes; well, Ipicked him up on the beach at the Bay of Islands. He’d swum ashore from theGuidin’ Light, a whaleship that had the reputation in her day of being the worst of all the bad ships that ever went a spoutin’. He was pretty desperate, but he knew enough not to try and skip while she was anchor: the standin’ twenty dollars reward would ha’ put every Maori in the neighbourhood on his track in a fluke-twist. So he waited till she was under weigh, and then when she was well off the heads he slipped down a rope and put for shore.
“Well, he’d fetched round to Russell, an’, mind I’m telling ye, they were pretty hard crowd there those days, so if a poor devil had no money he stood a gaudy chance of starvin’. Well, I was in a good homely ship, theMornin’ Star, the skipper’s boat-header at that, an’ we come into the Bay of Islan’s to wood and water up an’ give liberty as usual. I come ashore with the skipper as soon as the kellick was down, and while he was up at the store I strolled along the beach an’ I finds Dick, the chap I’m talkin’ about, lyin’ on the sand half dead. I gives him a kick just to let him know he was liable for a sunstroke, and he gets up halfway and looks at me just like a dog I had once. That was enough for me. I gets him up, takes him to old Rowsell’s store, and fills him full of good grub an’ beer, and then when the skipper come along I puts in a word fer him an’ he’s taken aboard.
“We happened to be a couple of hands short, so the old man wasn’t sorry to have him, and I—well, I don’t know what it could ha’ been, but I got so fond of that fellow you can’t think. When he got into decent rig, and had two or three square meals, he was a different chap, quite handsome and a regular Jim Dandy. He was a white man too, some sort ofan Englishman I guess, an’ he could talk like a hull box o’ books. We was only about nine months out from New Bedford when he came aboard, an’ before another three months he’d so twisted himself around me, one that had never had a pet before since I first knew myself, that I’d ha’ died for him. He was after oarsman in my boat an’ smart too, but, though I wouldn’t see it then, he was a coward an’ a sneak of the worst kind. I was in hot water the whole time takin’ his part, for he was always in rows, an’ used to run to me like a kid. I think I liked him all the more for that, an’ beside a row has always ben a sort o’ tonic to me.
“Looking back now I can’t understand the hold that fellow had over me, for he was always playing some dirty trick or another, not on me, but other fellows, an’ I had to get him out o’ them. An’ if ever I went for him real angry, he could always salve me over in a few minutes with that soapy tongue of his. At last I found him out. We went into Callao, an’ it was the days when shanghaiing was carried on wuss there than anywhere else. No one was allowed out of the ship except on such business as takin’ the skipper ashore, an’ then we was forbid to leave the boat. But he had ben there before, an’ knew Buck Murphy, the big shanghai boss, who used ter come down on the quay an’ yam with him very quiet. One afternoon while we was waitin’ for the skipper, Dick persuades me to come up to a house not above two ships’ lengths away an’ have a drink with him, bringin’ two hands out of the boat with us and leavin’ a Kanaka in charge. It was only to be for a minute.
“Even t’ this day I don’t know what made me go. I knew better, o’ course, an’ I never did care much fer drink anyway. But that fellow could make medo anythin’ he liked, I believe, an’, so I went, like a silly goat as I was. I smelt somehow that all wasn’t right when I got in, for there was as tough a lookin’ crowd as ever I see sittin’ about, an’ half of ’em looked ready to begin on anybody they didn’t sorter just cotton to. But I had my drink, three fingers of aguardiente, an’ so did the two chaps as was with us, two Yanks they was. Just as I puts my glass down I sees Dick lookin’ at me curious, an’ in that moment I knew that he had sold me. I never want to feel like that again. The bottom seemed to have fell out of everything. I jumped up, knockin’ the big table over; I heard an’ awful crashin’ an’ bangin’ an’, then nothin’.
“When I came to agen I was bein’ hauled along a deck by the neck, an’ I was feelin’ wuss nor ever I had felt in my life. I heard somebody yell ‘up with ye, dirt; an’ loose that maintgallant s’l,’ an’ I started, the sailor in me, I s’pose. But as I got on the sheer pole I looked around, for my head was gettin’ clearer, and there, not more’n a mile away was theMornin’ Starat anchor, an’ we flyin’ past her at the rate o’ knots before a fresh breeze under topsails fore and aft. Just one look was enough for me. I slued round and dived, comin’ up headin’ straight for the ole ship. And the skunk in charge o’ that hooker that I’d ben shanghaied into stood on his poop an’ took pot shots at me from a Winchester as long as he could see me. But he dassent heave to where he was ’n I played the ole islan’ game on him, boy, long swim under water, bob up an’ a guts full of air, then down agen. Why, I’d run the blockade of forty ships if only the water was rough enough.
“Presently the old man sees me, he’d ben disturbed by the noise o’ the shootin’, an’, as heafterwards told me, he ups with his glass an’ makes out who it was. An’ then he was that excited he couldn’t keep still; but he had too much savvy to lower a boat until the ship that I’d jumped from was outer gunshot. Then they come an’ picked me up. I was feelin’ real good, for that swim had put new life inter me. When I got aboard the ole man was that delighted t’ see me I thought he’d a cried, an’ I was some glad t’ get back. I told him all I knew, an’ he says, ‘Why that chum o’ yours is wuss an’ what even I thought him, an’ you know I never did like him. He got down inter my cabin that day somehow and stole about two hundred dollars in money an’ some bits o’ julery as I prized, an’ I hain’t heard nothin’ of him since.’
“I didn’t say nothin’, I couldn’t, but I reckoned that if ever I met Mr. Dick agen, no matter where or how, it’d be his last meetin’ with anybody.
“I went an’ had a good sleep an’ a feed, an’ that night as soon as it was dark I goes t’ the skipper an’ says I: ‘I’m goin’ ashore, sir, with your permission, but I don’t want no boat, I’ll swim.’ He knew me an’ he says, ‘Well, if you must you must. But I don’t want t’ lose ye, try an’ get back agen.’ An’ I says, ‘You bet I’ll be back before mornin’.’ So I puts my ole bowie in my belt, slips down over the side, an’ puts for the shore. It was only a couple o’ miles off, so I was as fresh as paint when I lands, an’ then I starts off on my search. I knew, of course, that my joker calc’lated on me bein’ a good many miles away by this time, so I didn’t dodge about, I went straight to the rum mill he’d lured me to. An’ when I shoved open the door, there he is, a settin’ with a big drink afore him, and Buck Murphy with two other boys o’ the same class sittin’ around with cards in their hands. They were playin’ bluff.
“I wasn’t: I made one jump at him like a cougar. I knew I could a had him out o’ the middle of a regiment of soldiers, an’ as I went I knocked the kerosine lamp over that was on the table so that the only light that there was came from the burnin’ ile lappin’ around the wooden shanty. I got him by the neck, with my left hand. With the other I pulls my knife an’ as I choked him I felt for anythin’ touchin’ me an’ cut at it. The flame burst up high an’ showed me the rest o’ the crowd clearin’, so I pulls up quickly an’ has a good look at him. I thought he was dead, but I makes sure an’ then has a peep round. An’ in the corner of the room I sees a big hole. Bein’ as clear in my mind as I am now I makes a breach for it, guessin’ what it was, drops through it an’ finds myself in the harbour which was all right.
“So I takes a little journey, lands and get my bearin’s on, then paddles off quietly to the ship feelin’ quite easy in my mind. I got aboard agen at midnight, and was very near shot by the mate who, seein’ me climb inboard in the dark, thought I was some pirate or another. I jollied him a bit about his shootin’, not much, because I ain’t big on the shoot myself, then turned in, tellin’ him I’d give the cuffer t’ the skipper in the mornin’.
“I was middlin’ tired, an’ I had to be called at two bells, an’ as soon as I come on deck the ole man says, ‘So you got back all right, Merritt?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ I says, ‘an’ I’ve squared the account. Mister Dick won’t sell any more men, his pleasant little game is stopped for a full due.’ ‘Why, you surely didn’t kill him, did you, Merritt?’ says he, holdin’ up both han’s as if he was scared like. ‘Well, if I didn’t,’ says I, ‘it’s a funny thing to me. But I don’t think there’s much doubt about it;’ an’ I went on to give him the story. Would you believe it, he looked at me as if Ihurt his eyesight, an’ from that out I don’t think he really ever liked me. Some men is like that, ye know. They know you’ve done the right thing, yet they hate ye for doin’ it. But that didn’t trouble me any.”
All through the long recital C. B. had listened with mingled feelings of admiration and horror, and when Merritt had finished he held out his hand and said—
“Mr. Merritt, I feel that your deed was terrible, but I can’t find it in my heart to blame you, except that you acted in revenge. But that man was a danger and needed killing, I know, and I feel that you were only the instrument in doing a necessary work. I couldn’t think any less of you, for I believe you acted according to the light you had, and anyhow I love and admire you.”
From that eventful evening the friendship between these two most strangely assorted chums deepened in force until every man in the ship knew certainly, what he had only suspected before, that whoever took it in hand to do despite to one of them would surely have to reckon with the other. And that knowledge had a wholly quietening and sweetening effect upon all hands. Every one knew by this time, knew intimately, that C. B.’s principles were of a high and noble kind, that he would always be on the side of the good and true, and would be ready to put up with much trouble and annoyance from anybody rather than assert himself. But they all knew also that his chum Merritt was of a totally different stamp. They felt that, given what he considered cause, he would as soon kill a man as eat an orange, and they were afraid that if they offended C. B. and Merritt got to know of it, he might suddenly apply his own method of chastisement to the offender.
And so theEliza Adamsbecame a most eminently peaceful as well as hard-working ship. Captain Taber used to gaze admiringly upon the quiet gangs working here and there, with never a voice upraised in anger, and say to his mate, “Winsloe, I’ve often said that the day of miracles was long past, but I ain’t so sure now. You and me always looked upon the old hooker as a good ship, an’ by jingo, shewasa good ship compared with lots that we’ve known, aperfect little galley of angels, but they was a good deal of rough house at times in order to keep her good, now wasn’t they?”
“True ’nough, captain,” sententiously assented Winsloe, “men must be kep’ in hand.”
“That’s just my point, Winsloe,” eagerly interrupted the skipper. “Ever since the weltin’ that Merritt gave Pepe she ain’t wanted no keepin’ in order, she’s been an abode of peace; y’ haven’t had t’ raise yer voice above a whisper to get everything done on the instant. Whatever is it in this young fellow that makes such a change in everybody that comes near him? Some fellows hate him like pizen, others freeze to him like Merritt, an’ yet he doesn’t do or say anythin’ except his plain duty.”
“I guess I don’t know, sir,” yawned Winsloe as if tired of the subject. “S’long as a man does his work ’thout giving trouble I ain’t usin’ my brains on his character. Don’t make no sort o’ difference t’ me.”
“Ah, I see,” murmured the skipper, and turned away, fully convinced in his own mind that Mr. Winsloe did not view C. B. with any favour, in fact, was a man of that strange mind calibre, that praise of any other man, whether affecting him or not, acted upon him like a personal affront.
Thereafter for a space of three months, during which they continued to cruise the off-shore ground with fair success, taking altogether some four hundred barrels of oil, no incident occurred worth making special mention of here. Only it could not escape the notice of any unbiassed observer like the skipper, how, with the exception of the other boat steerers and the three officers above Merritt, all the crew seemed to worship C. B.; their faces brightened whenever they saw him. And then there came anotherexplosion with Pepe again, who seemed to have grown moodier and more sullen, although he was just as good a whaleman as he had ever been.
It was during the trying out of some oil, just at the change of watches, that one of C. B’s boat’s crew, coming hurriedly on deck, charged into Pepe, who stood wiping his hands by the mincer, having just relinquished the baler to C. B., standing on the try-works platform. It was a pure accident, due to the quantity of oil on deck. And besides, the man, a Yankee from Vermont, was not in the best of health, for he was suffering from a severe outbreak of painful boils. But Pepe sprang to his feet and seized the unfortunate fellow by the throat, forcing him against the rail, and had already struck him a heavy blow in the face, when C. B. leaped from his place on the platform, and snatching Pepe’s just descending arm cried, “Let the man alone!”
Pepe turned like a baffled tiger, all teeth and snarl, and grappled C. B., everything forgotten but his present desire to do harm to the one who had got in his way.
A serious smile was on C. B.’s face as he easily held the furious man who, lost to all sense of danger, strove to get at his knife. Seeing or rather feeling this, C. B. lost his temper and, freeing his right arm, struck at Pepe’s face once, twice, with crushing force; then as if maddened beyond endurance he clasped Pepe in his arms and dashed him against the bulwarks where he lay limp and motionless. C. B.’s anger passed as rapidly as it had kindled, and falling on his knees in the oil by the side of the unconscious man he tore open the breast of his shirt and felt his breast, finding to his immense relief that his heart was beating, though feebly.
Then rising, he lifted the limp body in his strongarms and bore it aft out of the way of the oil. He was about to get some restoratives when a hand was laid on his arm, and turning he saw Merritt who said—
“Looky here! no more foolin’ with that nigger. He ain’t hurt any worth speakin’ of, an’ you’re only spoilin’ him. ’Sides, your pot wants lookin’ after. Get back t’ yer work and leave him t’ learn his lesson.”
C. B. obeyed mechanically, but with a dull feeling of regret at his heart, for he was afraid of that demon that had so suddenly arisen within him, remembering keenly as he did the last occasion when it had done so. And as he went on with his baling, he prayed fervently to be delivered from what he felt was the awful danger of taking a fellow-creature’s life in anger.
All the while he was thus accusing himself the rest of the watch, with the exception of Mr. Spurrell, who was asleep and heard nothing of the fray, were almost beside themselves with joy at the thought that the gentle kindly fellow whom they all loved could on occasion use the great strength they knew he possessed not only in self-defence but for the defence of others. The man whom he had rescued, in particular, was from thenceforward his devoted slave; no one could say a word even remotely disparaging C. B., but he was upon them like a faithful dog in defence of his master. And strangest of all, C. B. never heard another word about it from anybody. Pepe was all right to all appearance at the change of watches, and if the captain knew he never mentioned it.
Now I fear that there are many good people who will feel that C. B. was woefully lacking in what they consider should be the first attribute of the Christian—the ability and grace to submit not only to any violence offered to themselves, but to witness any shameful oppression of others with the same meekness of spirit. I verily believe, I must believe, judging from what I read written by these people and what I have heard them say, that if they saw the last extremity of murderous outrage being offered to their nearest and dearest they would only drop upon their knees and pray that God would pardon the perpetrators; they would not dare to interfere, actively, nor if they were able would they allow others to do so. Nay more, if any person did interfere, and in defence of their children happened to shed the blood of the aggressors, they would be the first to call him or them murderers.
It is an attitude of mind which I do not pretend to understand, but one that is all too common and widespread to ignore. It is far removed from the spirit of the ancient martyrs, in that its professors are usually the very first to cry out for protection of their own bodies and property by the forces of the law. And I can only characterize such people by the plain old name of coward. More, I do not believe that God saves a man to make him a coward, but to make him as brave as was the Gentle Saviour when he scourged the infamous rabble out of the Temple, alone and unaided. But our curious weaklings would have reserved their wrath for the scourge wielder, their pity for the scoundrels. Would! nay do so every day, as the columns of our newspapers bear witness.
And now the time approaches when C. B. is to endure the heaviest temptation of all. The season was over on the off-shore ground, and the good ship was put under all sail for the Sandwich Islands, it being the captain’s intention to visit Honolulu to refit there and replenish with wood and water. Assoon as the news became known all hands went nearly wild with delight, for in those days Honolulu was a place where, in spite of the efforts of the missionaries, scenes of the wildest licence and debauchery took place upon the arrival of a whaleship whose captain was kindly disposed enough to give his crew liberty and money. Reminiscences of former excesses were now on everybody’s tongue, even the taciturn Merritt became almost garrulous in describing to his chum what he considered to be the attractions of Honolulu and its environs.
In his innocence and ignorance C. B. listened greedily to these tales, and asked many questions, which made Merritt grin and wonder loudly that any man should be so fresh and green as he put it. And there was no one to warn, nothing to give any hint as to the foulness of what was coming. More than that, there was an uneasy sense in C. B.’s mind of being gradually estranged from the high and holy thoughts which had always been his precious possession, even his prayers were becoming perfunctory as the scenes so vividly depicted by the conversation of his fellows rose before his mental vision and his curiosity with regard to them grew stronger.